That Damn Nectarine
by Sweedledome
Summary: Who knew fruit could be so annoying?


**So...haven't written one of these in a while. The idea jumped into my head this evening while I was, surprise surprise, eating a nectarine. Last story I wrote was a year ago so I apologise for any mistakes, i'm a little rusty =)  
Feedback is always appreciated and I own nothing except my highly volatile imagination.**

That Damn Nectarine

She was doing this on purpose. She had to be. It simply wasn't possible for someone to be that suggestive unintentionally...or was it? Isabela had no idea as she stared unblinkingly at Hawke across the bar. Hawke seemed oblivious to Isabela's gaze as she laughed at another of Varric's inane tales, using a small, sharp knife to cut herself another slice of the delicious fruit. Isabela had no idea where she'd obtained such an infuriating object but was it really necessary for her to enjoy it with such...enthusiasm? Isabela gulped as yet another golden drop of juice escaped from the nectarine onto Hawke's fingers, causing her to reach out with that delightfully pink tongue to snake out and lick the offending drop from her body.

It had seemed a night like any other, a night to get drunk in the Hanged Man and forget the woes of another combat filled expedition with piss poor brew and the crude humour that was so common amongst the folk of Lowtown. Isabela had been enjoying the evening, listening to Merrill prattle on about how she didn't understand how Isabel had won at cards again (Merrill swore Isabela hadn't had that ace a moment ago) and teasing Aveline into a stony silence with repeated suggestions about teaching Guardsman Donnic to use his "sword" best. She had even felt the satisfactory joy of beating Hawke in yet another battle of innuendos and verbal banter that made up the majority of their conversation. All that had changed the second Varric and Hawke had wandered up to the bar for another round because that was the moment that Hawke produced that small round item that was currently the source of Isabela's torment.

Suddenly Isabela couldn't look away, the young hero's dirty blonde hair seemed to glow golden in the dank candlelight that pervaded the grotty pub. Those normally bright blue eyes darkened, becoming grey and stormy as she listened to Varric talk, a look Isabela associated with Hawke when she decided to forego her usual sarcasm and beat the living crap out of whatever was in front of her at the time...or whenever Isabela colourfully described things she and Hawke could be doing instead of talking. Isabela watched as Hawke used a small knife to slice through the delicate skin of the nectarine, then became captivated as Hawke's tongue slowly dragged up the side of it to catch the juices that had erupted from the gap. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Hawke lightly sucked on the area to prevent any further dribbling. The sight ignited something in Isabela, a hunger, a need to see if Hawke would be as keen to give Isabela the same treatment.

That was why Isabela was sat rooted to her seat, mouth slightly open as Hawke continued to devour the nectarine, slice by slice. Her lips were now covered with a wet sheen that Isabela ached to remove using her own. She pressed her thighs together under the table as Hawke placed another piece in her mouth, her wet finger slowly sliding out as a look out satisfaction passed across her face. This...this was not _fair_. Since they had met, Hawke had proven a delightful sparring partner in flirtatious conversation, her impeccable poker face as she came out with some of the most lewd suggestions had Isabela intrigued from day one. However, more often than not, Isabela's years of experience meant that she caught Hawke out, leaving her a flustered mess. As time progressed the banter took a more serious tone as an unspoken bet was settled between the two women. Who would break first? For all the sultry glances, the light brushes of contact here and there, the outright propositioning, there was a tense air between them. Both desperate to cross that line and spend the night exhausting each other but neither willing to be the first to give in, to submit and admit the extent of their desire.

Isabela's constant triumphs in their matches of wit meant she was confident, no matter how how seductive Hawke could be, she had nothing on the exotic Pirate Queen...or at least...she hadn't...she hadn't until she'd produced that damn nectarine. Now Isabela was worried. Very worried. As if the sight wasn't tempting enough, their recent excursion to the Deep Roads meant that Isabela had not had the opportunity to pay a visit to her favourite establishment in Hightown in a while. She would have gone there tonight but Merrill had looked at her with those big puppy dog eyes and told her that she was fine with Isabela slinking off. Absolutely fine. It didn't matter that she was looking forward to relaxing with them all over a pint. Nope. Isabela could leave them. Merrill would be fine. Just fine. Isabela sighed, one simply did not disappoint Merrill, it was like kicking a baby Mabari that had just brought you a gift. So that was why she was here, desperate for some relief as Hawke demonstrated just how quickly she could use her tongue to catch any juices heading towards her clothes. Isabela groaned and buried her head in her hands as an excitable Merrill took it as a sign that she was agreeing with her about the recent rat infestation in the alienage (I know. The size of my foot! Can you believe it?).

Isabela then made a fatal mistake. Her gaze was drawn back to Hawke just as she bit into the remaining flesh of her snack. A single golden drop escaped out the side of her mouth and began it's slow descent. Isabela sat transfixed as the drop traveled down her chin, down onto her neck, highlighting a golden trail that glistened in the candle light. The drop just kept going and going till it slithered down into that gap, that glorious wonderful gap between her breasts, and remained trapped there. It's path blocked by Hawke's somewhat ample bosom. The final straw was when Hawke used a single finger to trace the path of the drop in reverse till her finger returned to her face, wet with the juices she had gathered from her chest. Eyes suddenly moving to Isabela, Hawke's gaze burned into her for the first time as she lifted the finger into her mouth. Isabela snapped, launching herself across the table she grabbed Hawke's clothes and slammed her against the bar.

"Isabela?! What the he-" Hawke's protestations were promptly cut off by Isabela's lips against her, rough and unforgiving. Isabela groaned as she snaked her tongue into Hawke's mouth, tasting the sweetness that lingered there. Hawke let loose a muffled moan as Isabela pressed the full length of her body against her own, hips lightly thrusting into her till she couldn't think straight any more. The numerous cat calls and wolf whistles from patrons of the Hanged Man had little effect as Isabela continued to assault Hawke against the bar. Even Varric's loud, over exaggerate throat clearing did nothing to seperate them and he eventually returned to the table where a wide eyed Merrill and an exasperated looking Aveline were staring at the scene.  
Eventually Isabela pulled away, chest heaving and glared at Hawke.

"You. You are coming upstairs. With me. NOW." Isabela watched with frustration as the lust in Hawke's eyes gave way to an impish glint and a smirk settled itself on her face.

"Whatever for dearest Isabela?"

"You know damn well what."

"I'm quite sure I have no idea what you mean." There it was again. That smirk. Isabela almost regained herself. Hawke's smug reply _almost _restored her willpower...then she brought the nectarine back to her face and gave one lingering lick, looking straight into Isabela's eyes. That was it. Willpower gone.

"You and I are going to go have sex. Lots of it. Right now. You'd best move quickly or it's going to be right here against the bar in front of everyone."

"Well tha-"

"NO. No more smart comments. No more innuendos. You win okay? I want you and i'm going to have you. Then you're going to have me. You're going to have me so hard it'll make that damn nectarine jealous. Got it?!" Hawke stared at Isabela's seething face with shock, she had definitely not been expecting that. She licked her lips and opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by a sharp growl coming from Isabela. Hawke closed her mouth and slowly nodded. Next thing she knew Isabela was dragging her by the front up the stairs, certainly not taking care to be gentle. Silence reigned over the pub as all stared at the stair up which the two women had just vanished. Suddenly a single moan followed by the crash of furniture was heard...then again...then again...then a "why do you have so many bloody knives!" before a series of noises that left no doubt as to what the two women upstairs were doing. Aveline sat with her face pale and mumbled something about needing to be up early for duty the next morning, then bolted for the door. Another crash was heard and Merrill glanced upward.

"Well that doesn't sound good. Do you think they've fallen over something? Maybe we should go see if they're alright? It did sound painful. Did you hear that? I think Hawke moaned, she must have hurt herself." Varric blinked at the smiling elf as a muffled "why do you still have that damned nectarine?!" was heard above them.


End file.
